


Hands are warmer

by emsylcatac



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, F/M, Fluff, Post-Reveal Pre-Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Romance, post reveal pre relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28436748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emsylcatac/pseuds/emsylcatac
Summary: Marinette's plan was simple: stealing Adrien's gloves, just so she could be the one to warm up his hands.If only Adrien's coat didn't have pockets.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 30
Kudos: 201





	Hands are warmer

**Author's Note:**

> From @rosekasa's [displays of affection prompts](https://rosekasa.tumblr.com/post/634235092602142720/20-displays-of-affection) on tumblr || requested by @amimons
> 
> Prompt: Person A holding person B’s hands because they’re cold || Adrinette
> 
> Thank you Bren for beta-reading ♥

_Pockets._

She should have remembered the existence of _pockets._ As an amateur fashion designer, she feels that she can only be angry at herself.

Marinette scowls at Adrien’s hand that she cannot see because it’s safely tucked inside the wide, _treacherous_ pocket of his trenchcoat.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” she asks.

He smiles stupidly, blissfully unaware of her turmoil. “Yes, I’m sure, you don’t have to worry!”

She hopes he doesn’t see the big puff of hot breath in the cold escaping her lips as she sighs disappointingly.

She glances again at his hand, at his _stupid_ pocket that’s lucky enough to keep it warm. “And your hands? You’re sure they’re not getting cold?”

He rolls his eyes with a chuckle . “Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry, Bug. These pockets are really great; they don’t look like it, but they’re very fluffy and soft on the inside!”

 _Ah. Well._ If they’re fluffy and soft on the inside, what are her hands and woolen gloves to compete with Adrien’s _really great_ pockets?

“See for yourself, if you want,” he goes on enthusiastically, taking away his delicate hand to open up his pocket for her.

“It’s okay,” Marinette answers with a tight smile. She isn’t going to shake hands with her current enemy. Especially since the object of their fight isn’t even here to share the space with her. “I believe you.”

Adrien shrugs, putting his hand back inside. “As you wish. They’re very comfortable, though, your loss.”

She tries to chuckle. “I don’t feel like taking off my glove just to feel your pocket.”

Adrien sighs. “Yeah… I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to lose mine.” He shakes his head, making a few snowflakes stuck in his hair fall on his shoulders.

Marinette says nothing. She could tell him that he is, in fact, not stupid, and that loosing his gloves isn’t his fault. But that would mean risking to admit that she’s the one who took them just so his hands could be cold.

Just so she could take them in hers, and rub them until they’re warm.

Just so she could bring them to her lips and blow on them with her hot breath, so it would warm up his cheeks too. (And hers. Always hers.)

And maybe if she’s lucky or brave enough, she could kiss the back of his hands, his palms, and kiss him whole, really.

But Marinette isn’t lucky because Adrien has pockets and she isn’t brave enough to tell him not to use them.

When she becomes a designer, she thinks, she’ll ban the existence of pockets. They’re a love-killer, she decides.

They continue their walk in Montmartre in the direction of the small Christmas market, Adrien pointing out some funny shop names to her or running after unfortunate pigeons to make them fly away. To avoid his runny nose getting worse, he says.

It’s true that the light snow falling and dusting the ground has given them red noses, and Marinette is glad that she thought of taking tissues with her.

One snowflake falls on her upper lip and she licks it to take the cold away. She wishes Adrien would have kissed it. Maybe if he didn’t have pockets, by now, he would have done it naturally. She would have liked it.

Instead, she looks at her worn out gloves that she had knitted a couple of years ago. They barely keep her hands warm now, and maybe if she pulls a little on that woollen thread, _just a little,_ a hole could appear on her index.

Marinette is stubborn and when she has a plan, she sees it through to the end. Even if there’s a pocket between her hand and Adrien’s.

So she pulls on the thread, just a little, just enough so it gives away.

Adrien is talking but she doesn’t hear him as a small victorious smile stretches across her lips.

“Adrien,” she interrupts him innocently. “I have a hole in my glove.”

He stops talking and turns to her, frowning in worry. It’s almost cute, really.

It’s very cute, actually, the way he brings his face closer to the gloved finger she’s holding up.

And then finally, _finally,_ he deigns to take his hands away from his pockets just so he can inspect the hole better.

“Oh, it’s quite big,” he says. “Is it making your hands cold?”

She flutters her eyelashes and pouts a little. “Yes, it is.”

He looks into her eyes, clearly worried for her. “I wish I could have lent you my gloves, but well…”

She pouts harder.

“...Maybe we can buy some new ones on the way? They must be selling gloves at the market and we’re almost there!”

She almost sighs. “I think I have a better idea. You said your pockets were warm?”

Adrien blinks. “Oh. Yes, I’m stupid. I can let you borrow my coat and—”

“No!” she cuts him off. “No, you’re going to get cold and…your hands must be freezing now.”

She takes off her glove and puts it in her own coat. She smiles at him and tries to not shiver—not from the cold, but from the excitement and the nervousness spreading through her.

She can see Adrien’s eyes widening and an ‘oh’ drawing on his lips in understanding as she takes his hand in hers and brings them in his wide, warm and fluffy pocket. He was right, they really are comfortable.

She sees a soft smile appear on his face when she scoots closer to him and lets her head rest on his shoulder as they start walking again.

 _Maybe,_ she thinks as she feels his thumb rub the back of her hand in soothing motions, _maybe pockets aren’t so bad after all._


End file.
